


beat me like a drum, run, run right through me

by QueerOnTilMorning



Category: A Simple Favor (2018)
Genre: F/F, Light Dom/sub, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueerOnTilMorning/pseuds/QueerOnTilMorning
Summary: How the graveyard scene should have gone.
Relationships: Emily Nelson/Stephanie Smothers
Comments: 7
Kudos: 117





	beat me like a drum, run, run right through me

Stephanie pretty much knows what's coming as soon as Emily pulls out the phone. Emily's sneer unfolds into a real smile as she plays the recording of Sean's confessions. Stephanie keeps her face blank.

_ "She meant nothing to me. It was just sex." "Did you think about me when you were fucking her?" "Yes." _

When it's over, Stephanie waits a few seconds, listening to the birds chirping in the cemetery trees. Then she says "Well?"

"Well, what?" Emily sips her martini.

"That's it? That's your big revelation? Sean doesn't really love me? Yeah, okay," Stephanie says. "Come on. Obviously I was dumb enough to fall for _ your _ crap, and that's, you know, embarrassing, but Sean isn't even a good liar."

"So why'd you do it? Why'd you shack up with my husband if you knew it wasn't real?"

"Because I  _ missed _ you, you jerk," Stephanie snaps. "You were the first person to act like you cared about me since--"

"Since both of the men you were fucking died in the same car?"

It's predictable at this point, Emily saying shocking things to throw her off her stride. Stephanie barely flinches. "Yeah, since then. I wanted you to keep being part of my life. I wanted to stay close to the things you loved."

"Real close," Emily sneers. "Up your goddamn cunt."

"What's your point?" Stephanie can't let herself forget that Emily always has a plan. If she's trying to start an argument, that means it serves her interests in some way.  _ Don't take the bait. _ "Yes, we have sex with each other and think about you. I'm using Sean, he's using me, no one's getting hurt." She shrugs. "Well, you're not thrilled, obviously, but we didn't know you were alive."

"Oh, someone's getting hurt all right," Emily says. She steps closer. "Was it better?"

"Was what better?"

"Was getting fucked by my husband better than getting it from your brother?"

Stephanie raises her eyebrows. "Wow, you're really planning to ride that one into the ground."

"He's already in the ground," Emily points out. She takes another step, and she's fully in Stephanie's personal bubble now, looming over her even though Stephanie is teetering in these stupid six-inch heels. Stephanie has to tilt her chin up to look Emily in the eye. Her whole body tingles with the thrill of this confrontation.

"You didn't answer my question," Emily says, close enough that Stephanie can feel the words on her skin. "When my husband fucked you, was it good?" Her lips brush Stephanie's ear. "Did you come? With him inside you, thinking about me?"

"Oh my gosh!" It's reflexive; she recoils from Emily's touch. "I didn't mean thinking about you like  _ that!" _

The corner of Emily's mouth quirks up. She has so many carefully calibrated degrees of half-smiles, and they're all a slightly different flavor of aggravating. "Yes you did," she says. Stephanie's heart races.

"What, you think you're just that irresistible? Like you kissed me one time and now I'm--I don't know, whatever, some kind of--" Stephanie tries to sound dismissive, but her voice comes out high and breathy. She shouldn't have brought up the kiss.

"Some kind of slut?" Emily suggests, still wearing that tiny hint of a smile. "Some kind of greedy bitch who takes it however she can get it? Some kind of insatiable whore who would fuck her dead best friend's husband before the friend was cold in her grave?"

"Okay, you drowned in a lake," Stephanie says, to distract herself from the rest of Emily's accusations. "You were already cold."

"And yet you were still hot for me," Emily says. She's backed Stephanie all the way up against the headstone now.

"I was not," Stephanie protests, trembling with fear. It's definitely fear. Emily is a murderer, and now she has her hands--her  _ murder hands-- _ braced on the marble to either side of Stephanie's hips. Anyone would be shaking in these circumstances.

"Oh, no?" Emily stops. Stephanie can smell the perfume between her breasts, the heat of her body. "My mistake, then. I guess I'll just--"

Stephanie kisses her.

She doesn’t decide to do it; it just happens, her hand reaching out of its own accord to cup Emily’s smooth cheek and bring their mouths together. Emily kisses back hard, without hesitation, parting Stephanie’s lips with her tongue. One of her hands moves to Stephanie’s waist, then slides higher.

When Stephanie feels Emily’s thumb graze her nipple, she jerks her head away.

“God,” she breathes. “Wait. This is crazy.  _ You’re _ crazy.”

“You love it,” Emily says. “This is tacky as shit, by the way.” She hooks a finger through Stephanie’s flower choker and drags it down, then licks the inch of neck she’s just revealed. Stephanie whimpers. Emily drags her tongue higher, exploring Stephanie’s jawline, behind her ear. Stephanie doesn’t pull away.

“Still didn’t answer my question,” Emily says a few moments later.

“Huh?” The second she says  _ huh, _ Stephanie hates herself. She should have had a comeback prepared. Something witty and devastating.

“Did you come when Sean fucked you?”

“Stop it! That’s--that’s personal!”

Emily laughs, that low, throaty laugh that gives Stephanie  _ very confusing feelings. _ She lowers her hands to Stephanie’s thighs. “We’ve shared a dick, baby. I think we can skip the small talk.” Her fingers curl, and after a moment Stephanie realizes that Emily is slowly bunching up the fabric of her skirt, gathering it into her fists and exposing more and more of Stephanie’s legs. Emily’s own leg is between Stephanie’s knees.

Stephanie bites her lip, then whispers “No” into Emily’s chaotic tangle of dirty-blonde hair.

“No what?” The skirt is all the way up to Stephanie’s hips now.

“No, I didn’t come with Sean.”

“Who’s the last person to make you come?” Emily’s eyes are huge and dark, fixed on Stephanie’s, not letting her look away.

“Me.”

“Other than that.”

“No one.” Even with Chris, she always took matters into her own hands. She didn’t have patience for all the fumbling and “a little to the left”-ing. “You know, it’s not that unusual. A lot of women can’t achieve orgasm from penetration--” Stephanie trips over her words, her face suddenly hot. Tears well up in her eyes for reasons she can’t quite articulate, and she swipes them away with the back of her hand. “God, whatever, sorry. I don’t know why I’m weird about this.”

It takes her a moment to understand why Emily is smiling--why she’s smiling  _ that particular _ smile, languid and predatory.

“What did I say I'd do to you if you apologized to me again?”

Stephanie’s pulse skitters, then speeds up. “I didn’t mean-- I’m not--”

Emily’s hands on her hips are suddenly a vice. She spins Stephanie around with no apparent effort, then shoves her between the shoulder blades to make her bend forward, bracing her arms on the gravestone. The martini glass falls to the ground. Stephanie stares at it, unable to process what’s happening. She’s spread-eagled with her skirt up around her waist, in broad daylight, and Emily Nelson is running a strong, warm hand over her ass.

Then the hand stops. “Wait a second,” says Emily. “You fucking bitch, these are  _ my  _ underwear. It’s not enough that you stole my house and my family? You had to snatch my  _ panties, _ too?”

“I also used your vibrator,” Stephanie says, bolder now that she’s not looking Emily in the eyes. She pronounces the next word with sardonic emphasis: “Sorry.”

This time there's no mocking in Emily's laughter. She sounds pleasantly surprised, even delighted. "Oh, baby, you are so much more fun than I expected."

Slowly, almost gently, she pulls the borrowed black silk underwear down until it's digging into Stephanie's thighs, just below the curve of her bare ass. They are still--Stephanie truly can't stress this enough, even to herself--in a cemetery, outdoors, in the middle of the afternoon. She will have a much better answer the next time someone asks "What's the wildest thing you've ever done?"

The first slap is lighter than Stephanie is braced for. Emily spanks her almost gently, as though she's testing the waters. "Harder," Stephanie says, feeling reckless.

"Yeah?" Emily's hand connects with a crack that rings through the still air. There's an immediate flash of warmth, then the spreading sting. Stephanie groans. "Too much, baby?" Emily asks, sounding smug.

"Why, are you getting tired?"

"Fuck you," Emily murmurs, her voice low and warm, and then she spanks Stephanie like she  _ means _ it. The blows come fast, on alternating sides, pain and heat building with no time to dissipate. Stephanie tenses up, gasping under the onslaught.

Emily leans over, draping her body over Stephanie's to whisper in her ear. "Relax," she says. "Take a deep breath."

Shuddering, Stephanie obeys. As she's about to release the breath, Emily smacks her on the ass so hard it comes out as a scream.

"Oh my gosh," Stephanie pants. "Oh, wow,  _ Emily. _ "

"Spread your legs wider," says Emily, and delivers a vicious slap to the inside of one thigh, then the other. Stephanie rocks back to meet her hand.

"I'm guessing no one's ever beaten your ass red like this, have they?" Emily asks. She rakes her fingernails over the aching skin, making Stephanie whimper. "No one's ever seen how hot it makes you. How bad you want it."

Stephanie arches her back, wordlessly asking for more. Instead, Emily slides a hand between Stephanie's thighs. Squeezing her eyes shut, Stephanie feels a blush prickle across her face and chest. She knows what Emily is about to discover.

Sure enough, Emily chuckles. "You're so fucking wet." Her fingertip glides over Stephanie's clit but doesn't quite make contact, and Stephanie presses her thighs together, trying to trap Emily's hand, capture the sensation.

"Did you get this wet for Sean?" Emily asks. "Did my husband make your pussy drip like this?"

"Wow," Stephanie says, knowing how ridiculous she sounds but unable to think of anything else to say. She rocks backward, trying to grind against Emily's hand.

Then the hand is gone. "Tell me or I'll stop," Emily warns.

Her mouth is dry as she says the words. "He didn't. You know he didn't."

"Didn't what?" Emily's finger circles her clit again.

"He didn't make me wet like you do," Stephanie says.

"Do you want me to fuck you, baby?"

"Yes," says Stephanie in a rush. "Totally." Then she adds, "Please."

"Hmm." Stephanie feels the tip of Emily's finger slip inside her, then stop. "Say it."

"I did!" She squirms, trying to open herself, take Emily deeper, but Emily is firmly out of reach.

"I want to hear you say the word," Emily says. "If you can't say it, I'm not going to do it."

Stephanie whines, biting her lip. Emily waits with ice queen patience, teasing her entrance ever so slightly. Stephanie has never wanted anyone or anything this badly. She  _ aches _ to be filled.

"Fine," she says. "Emily, will you please fuck me?"

Two of Emily's fingers slide into her, slow and hard and so deep it almost hurts. Stephanie yelps, feeling like her whole body is lit up, electric. Then Emily pulls back out--slow, tantalizing--and stays there.

"Again," she says.

With no hesitation this time, Stephanie pleads, "Fuck me."

Emily fucks her with long, steady strokes, curling her fingers inside of Stephanie at the zenith of every thrust. The pleasure is unbearable. Stephanie drops her forehead to the cool marble of Emily's gravestone, but it does nothing to temper the heat racking her body. Nothing has ever felt this good--not Chris, not Sean, not even that very fancy and doubtless expensive vibrator she found in Emily's closet. "Fuck me," she gasps again, because that feels good too, saying words that she never allows herself, doing things she's long written off as forbidden.

"You love this, don't you?" Emily asks. "You want some more?"

"Yeah," says Stephanie. "Give me more." She loves the way she sounds--totally unselfconscious, feral with desire. The fullness as Emily adds a third finger makes her moan. How can something feel so close to too much and so far from enough, all at once?

Then Emily pulls out of her. Stephanie whimpers, but Emily is turning her around again, arranging Stephanie half-supine against the headstone. She smiles up at Stephanie wolfishly--up, because Emily is sinking to her knees.

Emily lifts one of Stephanie's legs and hooks it over her shoulder, leaving Stephanie entirely off balance, precariously held up by one leg and the marble slab behind her. She's never been more vulnerable.

It flashes through her mind that if Emily wanted to kill her, now would be the perfect time.

But Emily has other ways of destroying her. She spreads Stephanie open with one hand, and then--after glancing up once more, making sure Stephanie's watching--she delicately licks her. Licks  _ into _ her.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Stephanie groans. She's not sure she's _ ever _ said that before.

Emily's eyelids flutter. "Your pussy tastes so good."

Stephanie can't even imagine a universe in which she could think of a response to that.

Emily raises her eyebrows. "No one's told you that before, either, have they?" she asks. Her fingers are between Stephanie's legs again, moving languidly, teasing. "Men are so unappreciative."

"Please," Stephanie grits out between her teeth.

"Of course," Emily says, and swirls her tongue over Stephanie's clit as she buries her fingers in her cunt. Stephanie can barely breathe. She arches her back, her hips spasming as she rides Emily's face, frantically chasing something she's never felt before. Emily is playing her like a guitar, strumming her body with unhurried precision, building to a crescendo of pleasure.

"Emily, Emily, oh fuck, Emily," she sobs. Emily  _ hums _ in response, and God, the vibrations of that hum are everywhere, building and building through her body in a feedback loop that could deafen her. She's fucking her fast and shallow now, Stephanie's pulse racing to keep time.

Then Emily sucks hard on her clit and Stephanie screams and everything blurs at the edges as she comes the hardest and longest she ever has in her life.

Emily soothes Stephanie through the aftershocks, keeps her from falling over into the dirt and kisses her thighs until she stops shaking.

"Oh, wow. Wow," Stephanie says when she can speak again. "That was, um. I guess I owe the oopsy jar about fifty dollars."

"I guess so," says Emily in her usual tone of affectionate contempt. Stephanie reaches out to brush Emily's hair out of her eyes, but she's already pulling away, collecting herself, wiping her hand carefully on a handkerchief, because of course she carries a handkerchief. She gets to her feet, looking down at Stephanie with an appraising glance.

"Wait," says Stephanie. "Don't you want--"

"Nah," Emily says. "I'd rather have you owe me a favor."

And just like that, she's gone again.


End file.
